Month: August 2015

Letter to my Future Kid.

Dear Future Kid,
Hello. I am who you call ‘ma’ and I’ll make sure you call me that, because I like the essence of it. I don’t write this letter to ask you if I am a good mother or not, because I am. I just have a lot to tell you and I can’t decide where to begin. Or I can.
I am your best friend as well as your mother. That is something I have learnt from your grand mom. Your grand mom who knew about each and everyone of my crushes and heartbreaks and talked to me on how the right guy will come along eventually, yet made sure she kept that distance and authority a mother is supposed to. Likewise, you can share your pains and doubts and all the stupid decisions you make, get counselled and then reprimanded.

Secondly, I am the kind of mother who would never check your phone, your personal diary or even push you to tell me your secrets. On the other hand, I will try to be your personal diary yourself, someone you would want to come and share your pains and joys with, yourself.

Now that all the personal, emotional stuff is said, here is to things you and I will do, together:
We will read. I will begin reading to you from my personal favourites but gradually I will let you venture out in the world of books freely and let you develop your own tastes in reading. I know what it means to choose your own fandoms.
We will travel. I love to travel and it was probably my travels in my teenage that made me who I am. We will explore new places and get lost and then find our way back. We will do that. We will learn from the world.
Also, we will shop. We will go out shopping experimenting with new styles and ideas and it will be a date of you and me every now and then. We will talk over a coffee and fight over a new pair of jeans and we will get to know each other better.

Lastly, I want to talk to you about what I will NOT do. Your grand parents never forced me to do anything. They wanted me to do a lot, but never forced me into anything. I know how important that is for your development and growth. So, I will not ask you to do what I want you to. Instead, I’ll support you in whatever you want to do.
I will not stop you from making mistakes. Many a times, I would know your decision is wrong, but I’ll let you take it anyway. You need to learn from bad decisions and wrong pathways. I will let you do that.
Also, before I end this letter, just remember, I will, at a lot of times, lose my temper or be absent minded or just vaguely uninterested in your every day stories. Forgive me for that, I’m your  mother, afterall.


My daughter’s first love.

After ages, I was back here. In this world of technology, who had the luxury of silently spending hours here? I had a million memories of the place. As I stood there among my long lost friends, I heard her calling out to me. It was my daughter. I had brought her here to pass on all my memories to her. I suddenly felt a vibe of happiness. She had just shared all her new found joy with me. I saw the love in her eyes. I saw her admiring the place.

Back in my young days, my heart would ache to be in this place. I had to fight, I had to cry, I had to convince my dad for a long time.

I won’t let this happen to my daughter, not my daughter, I thought to myself.

She suddenly held my hand so tightly that I was jerked back into reality. She grabbed my hand and ran forward, half-dragging me with her.

‘This is the one,’ she shouted out loud.

I had tears in my eyes. Tears that were a mixture of both joy and sadness. Joy, for my daughter had found her first love. Sadness, for I had not guessed that she’d grown up so much already. I stroked her back and whispered in her ears, ‘Lovely choice, darling.’

She hugged me, picked up that red book and gave it to me to buy for her. I had not realised that my daughter had grown up so much. When had she turned five? When had she, like me, fallen in love with

The Pangs of Despised Love.

I was sitting in the classroom, trying to fit in with the group of girls who were not better than me in any way, or even different. I was just worried I wouldn’t fit in, and so I didn’t. I gave them all of me and they rejected me.
Years later I realise, had I been slightly more self confident, I would not have been rejected.

In my late teens, I went to my younger brother to hug him tightly and congratulate him on being selected in the football team. He pushed me away. I was already wondering if he would, because even though I was now popular at school but not one of my brother’s favorite seniors. I gave him all of me, and he rejected me.
Years later, I realise had I made sure he loved me, I would not have been rejected.

My crush. I really, really, really liked him. I would talk to him all day and had so many memories with him. I never told him I liked him, because I thought I could never get him. He dated somebody else. I gave him all of me, and he rejected me.
Years later I realise, had I told him I loved him, I would not have been rejected.

I went to my best friend’s cat and tried to pet it. It scratched my face. I found her really cute and wanted to make a rapport. But animals didn’t like me. I gave it all of me, and it rejected me.
Years later I realise, had I not convinced myself that it wouldn’t like me, I would not have been rejected.

Pangs of despised love hit you, when you despise yourself.
I never gave myself all of me, and I rejected myself.
Let’s leave behind this fear of rejection and fall in love with our own selves, so that when the world tries to reject us, it cannot.

My Best friend

We randomly became friends

When you sent me

That message, saying I

Write well. I thanked

You, not anticipating this

Would lead to long

Conversations and daily chats

And eventually, sharing secrets

You became

My Best friend.

Without realising, we fell in

Love. They (and trust

me, even I) thought

It was High School

Fantasy. But you surprised

Me by sticking beside

Me like none other.

Through everything, you stayed

My best friend.

College life passed in

Three short years, and

You stuck beside me.

You were

My boyfriend, but also

My best friend.

Years passed, you were

My prince charming and also

My best friend.

You convinced my dad,

We got married (that

seemed like a dream)

But more than my

Husband, you were

My best friend.


Life is not Rainbows

and Unicorns and HappyEverAfters.

You left me.

My best friend

Left me, all alone.

The only one I

Used to thank you

For, took you away

From me.

God took away,

My best friend.


You put me on fire, I would say, mild fire. You wanted me to burn, but slowly and gradually. You wanted to enjoy it till I lasted. Little did you know, I wouldn’t die out till I take my revenge. I will burn your inside, completely and wholly.

You held me carelessly, tossing and turning me, I knew it would end with you leaving me somewhere on the corner of this street, half dead, waiting to die completely. Little did you know, I wouldn’t die out till I take my revenge. I will make sure you regret not listening to the numerous warnings.

You finally stomped upon me one last time, but did not even wait for me to extinguish. You let me die, alone. Little did you know, I wouldn’t die out till I take my revenge. I will make your family’s heart ache for you.

You walked away, gracefully pulling at another one of us. I do feel jealous I’m not the one you’re kissing right now. You used me, and then you left me to die, useless for anyone else. Little did you know I wouldn’t die out till I take my revenge. I will make you shriek in the loom hospital room.

I am pretty.

I am sleek.

I have all the qualities of being loved.

Yet burnt,

I am a cigarette.

And little did you know I wouldn’t die out till I take my revenge.

Who was she?

I looked at her and waved. She waved back. I could see in her eyes the pain I had suffered. I also saw the tear-stained cheek, just like mine. That ray of hope in her expressions.. It seemed so familiar. It almost felt like our struggle was exactly the same. Who was she? Ah, realisation struck. She was my best friend, the girl who had been with me through the worst. The person who made sure that I don’t give up, that we keep going. We stood there staring and smiling at each other for a long time, like long-lost sisters. Then, when we tried hugging, we couldn’t. There was something separating us, something resembling a glass wall.. Who was she? She was me.

I “Love” You.

As the world progresses, one would believe that more and more people are becoming aware of basic ideas such as that of ‘consent’, that people across genders have been trying to reiterate time and time again. This poem takes a sarcastic tone to further this important idea.


It is fair for me to drop you home, even though you don’t know I’m dropping you and I’m half a mile behind you.

It is fair for me to bring a rose to you outside your house and ask you to join me for a coffee.

If you refuse, it’s fair for me to push you away and tell my friends you’re a slut.

It is pretty fair for me to hug you and give an affectionate peck on your cheek, oh look how you’re shouting in such delight!

You pushed me away? Well, it is fair for me to take you forcefully to that dark room and make ‘love’ to you…
…After all, all is fair in love and war, and baby, I love you.


Hello there! I’m Shireen. Shireen Manocha. Or Sheeny, Sheenu, Sheen, Sheenz, Cheeny, Pochha, whatever you prefer. I’m  no intellectual, philosopher, thinker or even a great writer. I’m a seventeen year old, a passionate reader, a curious traveler and someone who is so fascinated by these things we call ‘words’, that I keep trying to make different combinations out of them, sometimes making sense. I write to cool my soul and to ignite my mind, and though that sounds extremely fancy, those words do stand true for me. So, Why am I on this site? I have been, on several occasions, pushed by friends, teachers, family to get my thoughts on a platform, and to let the world know what goes on in my head. I’m not sure if any one would ever read this, but if you are reading this, I actually do welcome suggestions, constructive criticism and also, well, compliments. Teehee. I have named my blog “Inevitable Darkness”. That’s mainly because I have always thought that darkness is, after all, inevitable. Most of what I write is dark, depressing, dispiriting. It has a reason. You and I both know that though life can be happy, the world is not a pretty, beautiful and forever joyful place. The world is not a wish granting factory. (Yes, I just quoted TFIOS.) I write to express the minor and major things of life which we deep inside know exist, but we tend to ignore just to avoid the psychological condition of ‘stress’. No, the world has happy events, but by and large, it is NOT a happy place. I sound like a pessimist here, I know, but in reality, people compliment me on my positive outlook throughout every inevitably dark situation. You would understand more of this when (and if) you read my future posts, which I would try to frequently upload. That’s all then, hasta-la-vista. Do leave a comment if you read this. (And please forgive my exaggerated use of commas. It’s in the blood.)